* As readers of Jubeka’s journal from the green fire quest chain will recall, it was Jubeka’s fascination with more powerful demons that led to the introduction of the Grimoire of Supremacy talent for warlocks in Mists of Pandaria. Which…roughly corresponds serendipitously with the time of Mokvar’s disappearance on this adventure.

* Those of you who completed the green fire chain will recall much of this exchange from the Pursuing the Black Harvestsolo scenario. (Yes, I doctored the exchange a little here, but I have to be allowed some artistic license, right? RIGHT?!)

** …which evidently didn’t last very long. According to Faranell, when Shayari made her unauthorized departure from the Undercity, she managed to damage the new acquisition. A repair bill to be forwarded to the Warchief is still pending.

[So…as everyone surely remembers from previously, Mokvar was recounting the tale of his pursuit of the Council of the Black Harvest. Mokvar’s search led him from the Firelands to Shadowmoon Valley, where he found Kanrethand Ebonlocke and Jubeka Shadowbreaker…]

* For anyone who’s forgotten the details of Mokvar’s sordid past: Back in his days as a mercenary with the Veiled Blade, on a mission to Blackrock Spire, he acquired the Nether Prism, a warlock relic that could be used to dominate the will of demons. Mokvar detailed his backstory here and here.

* While tracking down the Council of the Black Harvest, Mokvar alienated old friends though a range of odd behavior, among it apparently killing old mercenary comrade Theldren while in Ironforge (which Mokvar would later explain as a result of a spectral assassin attack).

[Two quick notes! First, after more than a little cajoling from certain individuals who know who they are, I’ve set up a DeviantArt account under the GarroshHllscream name (same as the Garrosh Twitter, just sans the @). Think of it as Gurtash’s sketchbook — I’ll likely use it to toss up various odds and ends: character sketches, requests (want to see your character Gurtash-style?), work-in-progress glimpses of upcoming comics (perhaps as reassurance that something is in the works when I have a lull), and whatever else might come to mind. Don’t worry, I realize that I’m posting content to the blog at a slower pace than I would like, so I don’t intend to let myself become overly distracted by the new toy; the DA account will serve to complement the blog, not compete with it. Hopefully folks will enjoy having the occasional peek at what Gurtash is working on.

That said, I’m getting the page started with a holiday rendition of one of our trainees — Ruekie, decked out in her Hallow’s End costume. I’d planned costumes for the other trainees, and may still try to get one or two of them done before the day is out. Time will tell!

Meanwhile, we’re coming down to the last few days before the final meta raid weekend prior to the release of Warlords of Draenor! I just wanted to remind folks that we’ll be planning to do something — hopefully one last Siege of Orgrimmar — on Saturday, November 8. Mark your calendars! With the imminent release of the new expansion, this will likely be the last meta raid proper that we’ll be doing for quite a while, though we might still carry on with other random shenanigans in the future…]

* Mokvar pulled a sneaky bait-and-switch with Ji to keep Mylune from…detaining him at the Sanctuary of Malorne.

** Neeru Fireblade pointed Mokvar in the direction of the Council of the Black Harvest, and Ritssyn specifically, here. As the green fire veterans among you may recall, Ritssyn and Zinnin were dispatched to the Firelands by Kanrethad Ebonlocke.

* As Mokvar has detailed, the Nether Prism is a warlock relic which he had acquired years ago in Blackrock Spire; when its powers proved stronger than he could handle, he passed the prism off to the imp Vi’el, a collector or rare magic items, in Darkwhisper Gorge. When Mokvar and Deliana returned to Winterspring to try to recover the Prism, however, they found Vi’el had been killed and the Prism was nowhere to be found.

Neeru Fireblade may very well have been right about the Council of the Black Harvest not being willing to talk to me, but for now that’s going to need to be a “cross that bridge when I come to it” concern. For now, the much bigger problem is going to be finding them. My best in is probably going to be Ritssyn, given his Orgrimmar ties, but he’s still far from a sure thing, and even that’s assuming I can track him down. He was supposedly on his way to the Firelands, but that’s not exactly a place to go take a casual stroll alone without really knowing what you’re getting into, especially if you’re like me and your command of the elements leaves a lot to be desired in the first place.

So, I’m going to need to take the indirect approach to this. I have Ji out helping me with part of it; this morning he left to do some investigating for me in Desolace. Meanwhile, I just came from a private meeting with Eitrigg. At least I think it was private. I didn’t notice any stealthy whooshy sounds while I was there, but who knows?

I gathered from Eitrigg that Garrosh isn’t exactly thrilled with what he’s been hearing about me – no shock there – but he hasn’t sent along any specific orders where I’m concerned yet. Considering that he’s known me for several years now, Eitrigg’s willing to give me the benefit of the doubt for the time being, although even he expressed concern about whether I’m sure I know what I’m doing. The truth of the matter is, the last thing in the world that I am right now is sure, but circumstances aren’t affording me a luxury of options.

Still, without showing too much of my hand, I managed to persuade him to let me borrow one of the sets of diplomatic tabards and banners that we issues to the emissaries we send various places. While I have those colors displayed – and remain visibly unarmed – I’ll be allowed free passage into nearly any territory, including within Alliance borders.

I’m about to take a trip to Ironforge.

Right now, I can’t really go into more detail than that. Ultimately, if things work out the way I hope they will, you’ll understand why. Still, I know I’m taking a considerable risk here, but it’s a necessary one. If I don’t have this all resolved and accounted for by the time Garrosh gets back from Pandaria, he’s more likely to have my head on a platter than anything else; and if these spectral assassins keep coming after me, I’m just as dead. Even with Garona watching over me – which I’m sure she won’t keep doing forever – it’s just a matter of time before the assassins start coming often enough and in great enough numbers that they’ll finish me off before anyone can do anything about it.

I’ll be leaving soon to meet Deliana in Ratchet, and from there on to the Eastern Kingdoms. It’s probably going to be a few days at the very least before I have the chance up write anything here. If you have any extra fingers, cross them.

After the dead end in Winterspring, I mentioned that I still had one more possible stone to turn over. It’s not one I particularly wanted to turn over, considering who I’d be finding under it, but at this point I don’t really have the luxury of wasting time and hoping something else falls into my lap. So yesterday, I took a walk down to the Cleft of Shadow to have a talk with Neeru Fireblade.

I had known Neeru a little when I had first started training as a warlock, but since moving to Orgrimmar and changing to shamanism, I hadn’t had contact with him beyond occasionally passing on the street. I’d always avoided the Cleft of Shadow; after Thrall gave me sanctuary in Orgrimmar, the last thing I wanted was to be caught anywhere near the fel magic of the warlocks. Now, after years of avoiding the place, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy just from purple light that illuminated the cavern as I made my way down.

Neeru Fireblade channels a spell while Mokvar approaches.

MOKVAR: Neeru.

NEERU: <looking at Mokvar over his shoulder> Mokvar. Just a moment.

Neeru finishes channeling. Small flames burst from a large windroc carcass that sits on a nearby table, then flicker out after a moment. Neeru turns to Mokvar and points to the sizzling fowl with a smirk.

Undercooked.

MOKVAR: What do you do if it needs salt?

NEERU: Count myself lucky that I didn’t make a larger mess of the preparation than that. I’m hardly a chef.

Neeru sits down at the table.

I hope you don’t mind if I go ahead with dinner.

He gestures to a second chair across from him; Mokvar sits.

It’s been a long time, Mokvar. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you venture down this way. What brings you to the land invocations and mediocre cuisine?

MOKVAR: I’m looking for information, and I think you may be on the short list of people who might have it.

NEERU: <gnawing on a leg from the roasted windroc> I’m hardly a person in the know these days, but ask away.

MOKVAR: The Nether Prism.

Neeru pulls the drumstick away from his face slowly and looks up.

NEERU: Well now. What have you gotten yourself into, Mokvar?

MOKVAR: More a matter of what I’m trying to get myself out of.

NEERU: All the more interesting, then. I haven’t heard talk of that particular bauble in an age.

MOKVAR: I wish I could say the same.

NEERU: <eyes Mokvar closely> The last I heard of the Prism, it was in the hands – or claws, I suppose – of that drakonid Valthalak.

MOKVAR: That was years ago. After that, it made its was to an imp named Vi’el, in Darkwhisper Gorge.

NEERU: If you’re interested in the Prism, why don’t you go seek out the imp, then?

MOKVAR: I did. He’s dead. What became of the Prism from that point is anyone’s guess.

NEERU: Really now. And how did you happen to know about this imp in the first place?

MOKVAR: Let’s just say it took a roundabout path getting from Blackrock Spire to the imp.

Neeru leans back in his seat and folds his arms.

NEERU: You? You mean to tell me, Mokvar, that a relic as potent as the Nether Prism managed to change hands from Gul’dan all the way down to the likes of you?

MOKVAR: When you’re starting with Gul’dan, I don’t know if “down” is the right word.

NEERU: <chuckling and picking up the windroc leg again> Well well, Mokvar…you say you came to me for information, but it seems I’m learning a fair bit more from you.

MOKVAR: You know, it’s a funny thing. Grom Hellscream died slaying Mannoroth and freeing our people. Now his son walks around wearing the demon’s tusks, and sits on a throne carved out of its skull. It would be a shame if the Warchief got the notion that someone in Orgrimmar was still cooking up something with the Legion.

MOKVAR: If you’d like to roll the dice on how Garrosh would react, be my guest. It’s not my neck at stake.

Neeru stares down at his food.

NEERU: I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know what’s become of the Nether Prism.

MOKVAR: But?

NEERU: But if I were to hazard a guess as to where it might have gone…after the imp… <glances around furtively> There have been…rumblings among the warlocks since the fall of Deathwing. It started when the human Kanrethad reconvened his circle of fel masters, the same ones who had worked to expand the powers of the warlocks before the Cataclysm.

NEERU: Running around on fool’s errands all over the world – and beyond – to seek out even greater sources of power for themselves. That Kanrethad thinks he can build a coven of the mightiest warlocks in existence and position himself at its head.

MOKVAR: You don’t think they’ll be able to do it?

NEERU: I think that when you set out with a plan of “Let’s go make ourselves more powerful than anyone ever,” you find either disaster or a far heftier price than you’d counted on.

Mokvar nods.

Nevertheless. If the Black Harvest are trying to consolidate their power, I’d hazard a guess that the Nether Prism would be just the sort of item that would interest them.

MOKVAR: Do you know what’s become of Ritssyn?

NEERU: I believe he and one of the others made their way off to the Firelands. For all the good that will do you.

MOKVAR: What’s that supposed to mean?

NEERU: Mokvar, don’t you be a fool too. You can’t seriously expect that the Black Harvest would talk to you.

MOKVAR: I think I’ve already shown I can be pretty persuasive.

NEERU: <chuckles> Mokvar, don’t be naïve. You’re hardly one of the movers and shakers of the world, I’ll grant, but surely you can’t believe that you’re not noticed. Standing for all those years in Thrall’s council room. Attending advisors’ meetings with the leaders of the Horde. Hellscream’s personal scribe. Never mind the fact that they’ll know you were a warlock yourself once before you decided you didn’t want to dirty your hands with the fel arts any longer. Do you really think they’ll be willing to tell you anything?

MOKVAR: I guess I’ll have to figure out a way to be very persuasive.

NEERU: Assuming you can ever find them.

MOKVAR: We’ll see. <getting up> Anyway, I suppose I got what I came for, or as close to it as I’m going to. Enjoy your dinner, Neeru.

Mokvar turns to walk away.

NEERU: Mokvar.

Mokvar stops and looks back.

How did you know?

MOKVAR: How did I know what?

NEERU: Don’t play games with me. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.

Mokvar grins.

MOKVAR: Let’s just say I get around.

I left Neeru and made my way out of the Cleft of Shadow, mostly preoccupied with how I was going to track down the Council of the Black Harvest. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the light go dimmer than it should have as I went up the last bend of the cavern. That’s when two spectral assassins appeared out of nowhere and attacked me.

I fought them off as best I could for a minute, but my shocks and chain lightnings aren’t nearly as potent as a shaman who’s been training at it his whole life. They were quickly gaining the upper hand when Garona unstealthed behind them and had at both of them with a flurry of blades that was faster than my eyes could follow. It bears noting, by the way: Garona’s no joke in combat. I hadn’t really noticed before. Those spectral assassins dropped fast. While she resheathed her weapons, I tried to come up with something to say without much success.

MOKVAR: Garona…I…

GARONA: Garrosh knows what you’re doing. I hope you do, too.

MOKVAR: Then why…?

GARONA: Before he left for Pandaria, he asked me to look out for you. Until he tells me otherwise, that’s what I’m going to do.

MOKVAR: Well…thanks…

GARONA: Don’t. You know that if he tells me kill you, I’ll have to.

Mokvar nods and starts to turn to go.

Don’t give him a reason to.

Garona stealths.

I think it’s safe to assume that pretty soon Garrosh will be getting a letter informing him that I went to see Neeru Fireblade. I don’t figure that’s going to do a whole lot to improve his mood any. Still, he’s having Garona go on protecting me, for now at least. And with these two assassins down, chances are I’ve got a couple days before I have to worry about the next wave coming for me.

Still, I don’t have the luxury of a lot of time. I have a new lead to follow, and it needs to lead somewhere quickly.

Dranosh kept staring down at the ruins of Orgrimmar as we circled high above the city. We were too far to hear anything other than the faintest sounds of the demons and undead, but the fires were unmistakable even from here.

I finally went over and stood next to him. He didn’t look away from the sight below. We stood there in silence for a few minutes.

DRANOSH: Do you remember the first time you saw Orgrimmar?

GARROSH: <nods> Thrall brought me, not that long after he came to Garadar.

DRANOSH: My father took me. He was so excited to show me the new home the orcs had built. So proud to introduce me around – every grunt, every merchant, everyone. I remember thinking how every last person in the city seemed to know him.

GARROSH: Well, he IS Saurfang.

DRANOSH: <nods, then pauses> Maybe Thrall should have chosen him. Or Cairne. Or…Vol’jin. <shrugs> Or you, for that matter.

Remember when I said this timeline was the better one? Well, as long as time is getting screwed with anyway, let’s go back and erase that I’d ever said that. Orgrimmar was bad enough…but now Dranosh…

At least the Wrathgate killed him quickly. Not one little piece at a time.

We stood there silently for I’m not sure how long, until Dranosh finally turned around and gave Drok the order to set us on our way to Theramore. As we started to pull away, Dranosh took one more look down at the burning shell of Orgrimmar.

GARROSH: Not alone. But he was the ringleader of those warlocks in the Cleft of Shadow, anyway…

DRANOSH: <visibly fuming> Oh… Oh, bring him out. I want to talk to this one…

Mokvar nods and drops the frog on the deck, then zaps it with a frost shock to break the hex. Before Neeru Fireblade can react in his restored orc form, Dranosh grabs him by his robes and shoves him back against the railing.

DRANOSH: Oh hello, Neeru, so glad you made it out in one piece…

Neeru struggles against Dranosh’s grip, but Dranosh only shoves him back harder.

It would have been such a shame if you’d gotten yourself killed back there and cost me the chance to do the honors myself.

Neeru looks around at the gunship, then grins and chuckles cruelly.

NEERU: Based on our surroundings, I assume the day goes badly, eh, Warchief?

GARROSH: Not nearly as badly as it’s about to go for you if you don’t talk.

DRANOSH: I’ve got a lot of questions, Neeru, but here’s the main one – why?

NEERU: <laughing> Why? Why would I work against my enemy? Are you really that naïve, boy?

DRANOSH: How is the Horde your enemy? You’ve been a citizen of Orgrimmar for years!

NEERU: And a warlock of the Burning Blade for longer! That shaman who came before you wanted to believe so badly that some of us might yet be redeemed that he gave us haven in his precious capital. Even when his agents told him my loyalties might be…conflicted…the trusting fool still left me there in my tent to go about my business unimpeded.

GARROSH: Wow, seriously?

MOKVAR: You didn’t know about this?

GARROSH: Would have been nice if he’d left me a fucking note about it or something…

NEERU: <chuckling> Allegiance to the Shadow Council is not foresworn so readily.

DRANOSH: So you’ve been sitting there all these years plotting this?

NEERU: This specifically? No, no, boy. Simply…watching for moments of opportunity. And the Scourge attack on Orgrimmar proved a superb one.

GARROSH: While we were busy watching the rear gate, there was nobody to keep an eye on you bastards in the Cleft.

DRANOSH: Is that what the demons were doing in the Deadwind Pass? Gathering for your go-ahead?

NEERU: Our go-ahead, and more importantly our beacon to target their portal. The Legion also happened to have, in the Deadwind Pass, some ideal resources for a surprise attack such as this.

GARROSH: Malchezaar, in Karazhan.

NEERU: Holder of one of the most powerful sources of portal magic in this world – the Book of Medivh.

DRANOSH: Hold on – I’ve heard of Malchezaar, but I thought he was dead.

GARROSH: Malchezaar hung out in the highest level of Karazhan, where it pokes through into this whole other dimension.

MOKVAR: Netherspace.

GARROSH: Time doesn’t work the same way up there…it’s like it’s locked in this infinite loop. So people went up there and killed him, yeah, and then a few days later the loop would reset, and he’d be there alive again.

MOKVAR: And then someone else would kill him, and in a few days the loop would reset again.

GARROSH: On and on endlessly.

DRANOSH: And he just stayed there to die over and over? Why would anyone do that? Why wouldn’t he just leave?

NEERU: Because so long as he was there, he could never truly die, you fool. No matter how many deaths he might endure – hundreds, perhaps – the Netherspace would always restore him. The perfect hiding place for the Legion to stash away a key weapon for safekeeping, until the time would come that he would be needed.

DRANOSH: So today the demons cracked Malchezaar out of storage to bring them here…

NEERU: <smirks at Garrosh and chuckles> I wish you could have seen the look on your face when—

DRANOSH: <shaking Neeru violently> I would be a little more worried about the look on you face when I cut off your head and stick it on a pike, Fireblade!

NEERU: Do you wish to, Warchief? Then by all means. I had no delusions that I would escape this endeavor alive. But I believe. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter if you kill me. I’ve lived long enough to see Orgrimmar burn.

Dranosh loosens his grip on Neeru and stares over the warlock’s shoulder at Orgrimmar.

DRANOSH: You’re forgetting something, Neeru.

Neeru arches an eyebrow quizzically.

Orgrimmar is behind you.

Dranosh draws his sword and runs it through Neeru.

You haven’t seen anything.

Neeru seizes up, then goes limp on the sword. Dranosh extends his blade over the deck railing, then shakes off the body, letting it plummet to the rocks below.

GARROSH: <spitting over the side> Dismissed.

Dranosh stands at the railing, looking down, then looks back at Orgrimmar.

DRANOSH: I should have caught what they were doing. This should never have happened.

Garrosh stands next to Dranosh.

GARROSH: You’re part right. This shouldn’t ever have happened. <looks at Mokvar, then back> What if we could fix it?

DRANOSH: Yeah, sure, we’ll just rewind time and take it all back.

MOKVAR: Not exactly.

GARROSH: Look…what I have in mind isn’t a sure thing by any means, and I’m not even sure exactly how to do it myself. But I think I can find out. And if it works…well, things won’t be perfect. Like, at all. But the demons won’t be running roughshod over the world, and the Scourge will be under control.

DRANOSH: Sounds pretty perfect to me. You sure you haven’t been dipping into the felweed again?

GARROSH: I’m serious. It won’t be easy, even if we can do it at all. And…I don’t know if we’ll all make it through alive. In fact…I’m pretty sure we won’t.

DRANOSH: But Orgrimmar, our people – they do?

GARROSH: I think so, yeah. If what I’m thinking works.

DRANOSH: <nods slowly> If that ends up being the cost… A mediocre Warchief is a small price to pay for the survival of the Horde, don’t you think?

GARROSH: I don’t know. I’ve only seen great ones.

DRANOSH: What do we do?

GARROSH: First I need information. <thinks for a minute> And before we get too far along to Theramore, I need to make a quick side a trip to Ashenvale.